Chapter 14

Only trust people with big butts. They cannot lie.

T-shirt

Max

 

“You’re going to end up in jail, or worse, dead.” James said from his position beside me.

 

“I don’t really know what else to do. If we leave it like it is, I’ll end up dead anyway.” I reminded him.

 

“She’s got them in her back pocket.” James tried again.

 

“I know.” I said softly.

 

“Watch Payton for me. I’m pretty sure you promised me, when we were in fifth grade, that you would marry my widow and take care of my kids if anything ever happened to me.” I teased.

 

“No, you have it all wrong. I said I would comfort your widow. I didn’t say anything about marrying her. At least I don’t have to worry about getting her pregnant for a few months.”

 

Even knowing he was joking around, it set my guts on fire. I wanted to punch him in the face, and give him a hug at the same time. James knew me better than anybody, even Payton. We grew up as best friends. We lost our virginity on the same night. We went to boot camp and Ranger school together. We’ve killed together. We’ve done everything together. Now that knowledge of each other was about to be put to the test; at least on James part.

 

We were sitting in an abandoned building’s parking lot on the South side of town directly across from Detective Dick Wilson’s house. James drove me in his truck, since I was sure I was going to be leaving here in a cop car or an ambulance.

 

Sam and the others were working behind the scenes trying to connect the dots. Now that we’ve received the information we’d been looking for, it would only be a matter of time before the house of cards that O’Hare carefully stacked crumbled.

 

“She’s going to kill me. And you. And all of us.” James muttered.

I yanked open the door to the truck and started my trek across the street. I knew Dick’s place as well as I could, under the circumstances. I knew it wouldn’t be but ten minutes before the cops would be there to stop the altercation. I just hoped I was able to get everything I needed out of him in such a short time.

 

I ignored the doorbell and went right for forced entry. That would get me where I wanted to be faster. Taking the heel of my booted foot, I raised it up to just under the doorknob, and kicked the door in. The force of my kick sent the door banging in hard and planting the doorknob into the plaster behind it.

 

Dick jumped up off the couch, and reached for his forty caliber Glock that was in an ankle holster on his right leg.

 

“Don’t move.” I demanded as I raised my forty-five and aiming it at his chest.

 

He froze, and slowly lifted himself up until his hands hovered in the air at head level.

 

“Turn around and put your hands on your head.” I demanded.

 

He complied reluctantly, and I handcuffed his hands together. “Turn back around.”

 

He did as I said and I instructed him to sit down at the kitchen chair closest to him. Once he complied, I moved to stand directly in front of him.

 

“So how’d you do it?”

 

He glanced around the room, and then to my eyes, and quickly away again. “How did I do what?”

 

Sighing in aggravation, I made quick work of duct taping his hands and arms to the chair. I stared at him, not blinking, until he started to squirm in his seat.

 

“Dick, I’m not here to play games. I know you were expecting me, eventually. I know the silent alarm has already been tripped. I’ve planned for it. Trust me. Now tell me what I need to know.”

 

He licked his lips nervously, still not saying anything, and I smiled. “So, this is how you want it to go?”

 

He sucked his lips between his teeth; my guess was because he didn’t want to die. Most likely O’Hare had threatened him if he said anything. The good thing was that I only needed O’Hare to think I was out of the picture. I only needed her to think that I was tucked in jail, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked at my door while I was away.

 

The good thing was that I did know. I knew everything now. My slow brain finally caught up. None of this was really about me. She just needed a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall for the mission failure that happened in Iraq. She needed her fall guy to get her own ass out of hot water with the damn terrorist she hooked up with, when her own government had turned its back on her.

 

When I had arrived in Iraq, I’d disrupted a mission that was nine months in the making. She was about to be let go from the CIA, and she was pissed. So pissed that she decided the best thing to do was to go to the one organization that would take her in without question. An organization that would help her get revenge on the country she loved; the country she believed betrayed her.

 

“I don’t really need you to talk. It would be nice if you did, though. You’re going to die. O’Hare won’t let you live when she thinks that I got all the information out of you. She doesn’t need to know that we had an anonymous tip come in; she doesn’t need to know that you kept your oath.” I said, giving him a manic smile.

 

I wanted him to think all was lost. I wanted him to think that I would spare his life if he gave me something in return. It wouldn’t help, but I would make him think it would. So, I started walking towards him. Reaching into his shirt pocket, I extracted his cell phone and started it recording.

 

“Now tell me, Dick. What did you do to get rehired after you were fired so publicly?” I taunted.

 

Going behind his back, I ripped the white shirt he was wearing at the neck, until most of his back was bared to me. Then I walked to his front and pulled out my pocketknife.

 

“I just sharpened her this morning. This won’t hurt a bit.” I said and then walked behind him.

 

I snickered to myself when he started babbling for me not to hurt him.

 

“Its okay, Dick. These first ones will only be superficial. I’m hoping that you decide to talk.”

 

Closing the knife, I put it back into my pocket, silently, and withdrew a paint pen. One that would leave a wet and cold feeling if drawn upon the skin. For even greater effect, if you held it down long enough, paint would start seeping out of the edges of the tip and run down, eluding to the feeling of “blood.” I’d seen this on a TV show when I was younger, and when I interrogated my first suspect, I’d used this idea, and it worked brilliantly.

 

Taking the cap off silently, I set the tip against his back, letting him feel the wetness.

 

“Come on, Dick. Tell me.”

His whimpered, very unmanly like, but still held his mouth pinched closed.

 

“Alright, my boy. If that’s how you want to play it.” I said and then smiled.

 

I made sure to press down hard with my red paint pen, and then drew it along the length of his spine. I went so slowly that once I was done, rivulets of red ran down his back at a fast clip, disappearing into the ripped remains of his t-shirt that was tucked into his jeans.

 

His sharp inhalation let me know that he was rattled, but not enough to talk. Again and again, I ran the pen over various parts of his back. Knowing that he wasn’t going to speak until I did something he deemed life threatening, I grabbed ahold of his slicked back hair, and drew his neck up taught until the line of his neck was exposed.

 

“Last chance.” I said and set the pen against his out of control fluttering pulse.

 

I held it down just so he could get the feeling of the paint running, and then stopped. He finally burst.

 

“Okay! Okay! Stop!” He pleaded repeatedly.

 

I smiled and let his head go, before dropping the pen back into my pocket. “Go.”

 

He really did look a sight. Red was running down his back in lines, resembling shallow cuts. “She came to me the day I got fired. She said that if she got me back on the force, she wanted something in return. She wanted all the information we had on you, and she wanted constant updates. I did drive-bys of your work, every fifteen minutes on my day off. I switched cars at least once an hour. I swear that’s all I did. It was only information.”

 

I already knew all this, but it was nice to have it on tape so I could send it to James, who would then get it to O’ Hare. She’d take care of the problem, and then I’d take care of her. Red and blue lights seeped through the blinds at the front of my house, and I sat down on a kitchen chair across the table from Dick. Placing my hands on my head, I waited for the count of five, before they were coming through the door, weapons drawn.

 

There was no preamble since Luke was informed; he came straight to me, and took in the scene.

 

“What’s going on here?” He asked for effect.

 

Dick, of course, started rambling on and on about how I cut his back and throat. Given, it was a gruesome scene, but once you really looked, it was blatantly obvious that it was paint and not real blood. The boys started snickering behind him, but they still ‘arrested’ me and led me to the closest cop car.

I gave James a nod; he saluted me, and continued to watch the scene before him. Dick was bellowing like a water buffalo asking for an ambulance, but they ignored him. He was released, and then he came straight for me, threatening bodily harm.

 

“I want him fried!” He roared at Luke who had stepped in front of the door that was still open.

 

“We’re taking him to the clink. Not much more we can do for that. Maybe you should go shower. That paints drying. Does it itch?” He provoked.

 

Dick’s nostrils flared, and he turned on his heels in a huff. Can anyone say drama queen?

 

“The cell phone is under the table leg.” I told Luke quietly.

 

“Got it.” He said and walked away.

 

I was taken to the slammer. Again. Payton was going to freaking kill me.

 

“Take him to I1.” The chief said as I was processed.

 

I1 was interrogation room one. He and I both knew what I did wouldn’t hold me for long, but if what I thought would happen, happened, then I would be here much longer than what was warranted.

 

I was led to a rickety chair, in a sickly green room, and left there for twenty minutes. Pillowing my head on my crossed arms, I snoozed until The Chief finally came in to the room.

 

“Tremaine. I hope you know that we have a very pregnant, very frantic, woman in our lobby right now. She’s threatening to kick everyone’s asses if we don’t let her innocent husband go. She, of course, was made aware of why you were arrested, but she insists that it was just a prank. Any idea why she would say that?” He goaded.

 

I kept my mouth shut. Having Payton frantic didn’t sit well with me, but I knew this would work if I stuck to my plan. James had better be here with her, though, or when I got out, I’d make him wish he was born a girl.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t cooperate.” He huffed and sat.

 

He lifted a Christmas Tree Little Debbie out of his front pocket, and promptly started eating it, making sure to make all the appropriate noises one should make when eating those little delicacies. My eyes narrowed on him when he fished the cold bottle of chocolate milk out of his other pocket.

 

“Payton told me to give you this, except I was too tempted. See, Fancy doesn’t let me have this sort of stuff anymore. Not since I was told I’d die if I didn’t start eating right. It’s been six years now that I’ve survived on rabbit food. Do you know how hard it is to buy something in this little town? Every single thing gets back to her.” He groaned and then licked his fingers.

 

“You bastard!” I hissed.

 

He laughed and then took the other tree out of his pocket, opened it, and the placed it down in front of me. I didn’t hesitate in snatching it up and shoving it into my mouth whole.

 

Damn these things were good. Of course, they only came out around Christmas time, so I gorged myself on them during the two months they graced the earth with their presence. Licking my fingers, I went for the unopened bottle of chocolate milk he’d placed in front of me, but he held it out of my reach.

 

“Tell me. No cameras.” He instructed.

 

Therefore, I did. My mouth was parched.

 

“Mother fucker. You have to be kidding me! I’ve been wondering for four months how he managed to pull that shit off!” He fumed.

 

Then he smiled an evil smile and got up from his chair, and left the room.

 

The smile slid off my face when Payton entered the room. The Chief didn’t stay as a buffer either. She glared at me, crossed her arms above her belly, cocked her hips, and slowly tapped her foot. Then her finger got into it when she didn’t get the desired effect.

 

Then a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, and I was on my feet in an instant, gathering her up and cradling her against my chest. I felt her hand sneak up the front of my stomach, come to a stop just under my nipple, and then she twisted the ever-loving shit out of it.

 

“Motherfucker!” I yelled and jumped back from her.

 

Her fingers held on, though, and twisted even harder until finally her fingers slipped from the hold she had on my nipple. I rubbed it, trying to get rid of the sting and glared at her.

 

“I cannot believe you did this to me! Do you have any idea how awful it is to be watching the news at work, and hear the news anchor say that your husband has been arrested for beating up a cop?” She yelled, waving her hands wildly.

 

“I did no such thing!” I ground out.

“Then why are you in here?” She said slightly less shrilly.

 

“It was only breaking and entering. I may or may not have held him prisoner, but I sure didn’t hurt him!” I explained.

 

“Like that’s any better!” She fumed.

 

Okay, she might’ve been right, but I had to do it; otherwise, O’Hare wouldn’t make a move. Walking slowly towards her, I gauged her reaction. Seeing that she wasn’t protesting my nearness, I snuck my arms around her tiny frame, and pulled her roughly into my body. Her belly kept her from getting as close as I would have wanted, but feeling the baby squirm in between us was completely worth it.

 

“Trust me.” I whispered into her ear.

 

“You’re going to miss our first Christmas.” She cried.

 

“Honey, that’s a week away. I’ll be home in three, four days tops.” I guaranteed.

 

“Okay. Will they let me have a conjugal visit?” She asked as she squirmed.

 

I couldn’t help but laugh. This woman sure did know how to make everything better. My day could have been for the birds, but one cheesy joke or sappy text message from her and my world would be right again.

***

Payton

I hauled my gangly self, belly leading the way, out of my car. Taking stomping steps, I made my way into the main office and slammed the door shut behind me. Sam, James, Jack, and Elliott were all doing various things, and froze when I entered. Gabe brought up the rear, closing the door quietly behind him, glaring at me for shutting the door in his face; it wasn’t my fault he wouldn’t leave me alone.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Tell you what?” James feigned innocence.

 

Once you’re mad at someone, everything they do seems offensive. There James was idly tapping away with his pencil, and I wanted to rip it from his hands and stab him in the ass with it. Even Sam was annoying me, idly nibbling on a piece of beef jerky.

 

I walked right up to him, snatched it out of his hands, and ripped into it with my back molars. The flavor burst to life on my tongue and I barely kept the moan of deliciousness in check. I glared icily at him, and then turned that stare to the other men in the room. They raised their arms in surrender, and I sat down in the chair next to the desk and waited.

 

They couldn’t do anything with me sitting right here, and they wouldn’t kick me out either. After all, my husband was just thrown in jail, I was six months pregnant with a rugby player, and I was hormonal. They knew better than to mess with this.

 

The door to the office swung open; Ember, Cheyenne, and Blaine entered. They glanced around and instantly became aware of the tenseness in the office.

 

“What’s going on?” Ember asked finally.

 

“Umm…” Gabe hesitated.

 

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered and stood, turning to face them. “My husband was arrested for assaulting a police officer. He’s now in jail, where he will remain without bail because he assaulted a cop, and the judge wasn’t too happy about that.”

 

A chorus of “What’s?” filled the air. Then what I wanted to happen, happened. They were the best friends a girl could ask for; they all turned and regarded their significant others, waiting for an explanation. Groans from the men proceeded the looks, but they still didn’t give in. My lovely friends weren’t going to give in either; this was about to get interesting.

 

“I expect an explanation as soon as I get back, dammit.” I said, before stomping back to my idling car, patting Alpha on the head, and heading back to work.

 

I never made it, though.

 

I’d just reached the intersection of Grand and University when our light went from green to yellow. I stopped for the light, but the motorcycle that had been following Gabe and I for the last mile did not.

 

The accident played out like one does in a movie. There was a screech and squeal of tires. The sound of bending metal and booming impact. Horns honking. Smoke was filling the air, and then all went silent for a few seconds. People exited their vehicles, cautiously, but I didn’t hesitate. I ran to the downed victims that were thrown over sixty feet away from where their motorcycle had been impacted by the truck.

 

Gabe was there too. Following me as he’d done before, but this time I was happy for his presence. He was a combat medic and would be extremely helpful in trying to stabilize the patients until the ambulances were able to get here.

 

Dismay washed over me when I saw that the woman was dead. Her neck was in such a horrific angle it would have been blatantly obvious to anyone. Her eyes stared vacantly at the blue sky, and that’s when I noted that she was pregnant. Her face was in such a bad shape that I just knew we wouldn’t be able to do CPR until the medics got here. Gabe saw it, too. There was no reason to.

 

I was relieved that other motorists were surrounding the man victim, who looked to be in much better shape than the woman.

 

I ran back to my car and removed the Go Bag that I always kept there for emergencies, and ran back to Gabe who was removing the woman’s clothes from her top half. I watched with clinical detachment, and then set out everything that I thought we would need. I glanced over quickly to make sure the man was getting help, too, and saw two men doing CPR on him as well.

 

Gabe and I worked quickly, and I assisted him as he performed a C-section in the fucking field. I’ve witnessed multiple C-sections, but this was my first that didn’t occur in the sterile environment of an OR.

 

In a matter of minutes, Gabe was reaching inside of the dead woman and removing the baby. The incision was a large one, so no maneuvering was being done; the baby slid right on out in a boneless heap.

 

The next few minutes blurred as we performed CPR on the infant, and then turned the care over to the paramedics, who showed up seven minutes after the accident. Normal response time outside of the city limits was eleven minutes, and we were lucky that they got here so fast.

 

We followed the ambulance the whole way to the hospital. I went upstairs to change out of my dirty scrubs, and sat down in the break room and cried. I cried for that sweet baby who would never see his mom. I cried for that poor mommy who would never know the joy of holding her baby for the first time. I cried for Max not being here when I needed him so badly.

 

I cried for well over fifteen minutes, collected myself, shoved all of my thoughts in a deep vault in my mind, and then finally headed back out to the nurse’s station. Of course, my coworkers were all curious, but I didn’t feel up to explaining.

 

I threw myself into work in a futile effort to try to forget the turmoil that was taking over my brain. Grabbing my charts from the nurse’s station, I knocked on the first door and entered. My new mom was asleep, and I announced myself so she didn’t freak when she saw me standing over her newborn.

 

“Hi, Charlotte! How are you feeling?” I asked her.

 

“I feel like I just shit a watermelon. My asshole hurts. Why does my asshole hurt?” She asked, looking at her baby with pride.

 

I had to smother my laugh. This woman was awesome. She was a hoot during labor, and I heard her jokes all the way down the hall in the maternal care unit. The nurses were still laughing about her outburst when the doctor gave her an episiotomy.

Apparently, when the doctor went to cut for the episiotomy, she begged the doctor not to cut her clit off by accident.

 

“Umm, well you did have an episiotomy. It’s going to hurt for a few weeks. They did have to cut nearly all the way down to your rectum.” I said consolingly.

 

“Fucking wonderful. When I see that man again, I’m going to punch him in the face and cut his balls off with a blow torch.” She ground out and then covered her face with a pillow.

 

The door creaked open, and the man in question came inside, unaware of the danger he was in.

 

“I got you some dinner, honey!” He said cheerfully. Since he wasn’t paying attention, he didn’t see the shoe flying at his head until it hit him on the shoulder and bounced to the ground. “Hey!”

 

“Look what you’ve done to me!” She yelled and raised her shirt, opened her legs, and then showed off the goods to everyone.

 

Her husband winced and looked away. “I didn’t tell you to go off your birth control!”

 

“Yeah, well I was stupid. I specifically remember us speaking about it though. My problem is that you didn’t tell me my vagina would be ripped open!” She seethed.

 

Now, I should mention the fact that her husband is also an OB/GYN doctor. He knew exactly what could happen when babies were conceived. How he was able to keep this from her, I don’t know.

 

Using the lull in screaming, I examined Charlotte, the baby, and made my way out of the room. Just as I was about to go outside, my name was called from the nurse’s station.

 

The charge nurse waved me over and said, “I need you to go down to the ER. There was a bad wreck, and it involved a pregnant woman. The baby was delivered, but the mom didn’t make it. The baby needs to be checked over, and brought up here. Take everything you will need. Be careful.”

 

I looked at her questioningly, but she’d turned around and started barking out orders to those that were gathered around the nurse’s station. Gathering a blanket, a portable crib, a nose syringe, and hospital bracelets, I made my way down stairs and arrived into utter chaos.

 

There was no way for her to know that I was there for the wreck. That I helped deliver the baby. However, I didn’t want to get into it. Instead, I did what I was told. The elevators dinged, and I was momentarily struck speechless.

 

Wall to wall, there were bikers galore. Some wore their leathers, other’s wore only t-shirts, some had on blue jean jackets, but there was no doubt in my mind that they were bikers. They exuded a type of force that shouted ‘Biker!’ They parted and watched me walk by. All of them solemn. Some of the women were crying. Some of the men held their women. Others completely ignored me.

 

My breath started to come in harsh pants, but I ignored it, thankful to have Alpha trotting along beside me. Their eyes flickered in his direction, but they quickly averted back to me and my progress down the long hallway. Once I was in the main hospital room, even more bedlam welcomed me.

 

The trauma room was in a full uproar, working frantically on the motorcycle man. He filled the gurney from top to bottom. A nurse was standing to the side, holding a bundled up baby, watching the commotion. CPR was being performed on the man, and doctors were shouting orders at the frantic nurses.

 

The chorus of ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ was being sung by the doctor performing the chest compressions. Duh, duh, duh, du, du, du, du, du, du. They hummed to the rhythm, and then started to sing.

 

Doctors had weird senses of humor. Paramedics were even worse. We were taught to perform chest compressions while maintaining a certain rhythm. Some doctor decided to implement their own use of black humor, and came up with this song to pace their rhythm with. Another song that they use, that would be better in this situation, was ‘Stayin’ Alive.’ Yet, the doctors and paramedics tended to sway towards this one.

 

Drawing my cart up next to the nurse, we exchanged information. She gave me the baby’s APGAR scores, and stats. I did my own check over the baby, diapered him, swaddled him, and then waited for security to escort me. I was going to play it safe, and have someone accompany me. I didn’t want this to get out of hand, and I knew damn well it would if I wasn’t cautious.

 

Just as I got to the open doors with the guard, I peeked out and my heart dropped when I saw the wall of black leather. There was no way I was going to be able to do this. I needed some familiar backup. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I made a quick call and waited.

 

Not even five minutes went by when I heard the roar of motorcycles again. Yes, there were about a gazillion in the parking lot already. You ask how I know, but I can’t tell you. I just do. After six months of listening to those specific motorcycles coming and going, I knew them by heart.

 

I watched as the wall of black leather parted, and revealed Sam, Elliott, James, Gabe, and Jack, as well as Luke and some men of SWAT that were dressed in riot gear. They backed the men away from the door I needed to exit through, and I very cautiously swiped my key card and allowed the door to swing open.

 

The guys met me with concerned smiles, and then made a human wall so the baby, Alpha, and I could make our way to the bank of elevators that were located around the corner. All the bikers watched avidly, but didn’t make any threatening moves.

 

Whether it was because of the guys, or just because they never had the intention to start anything, I didn’t know. I, however, wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with this little baby I was pushing, and not with the one that I was currently nourishing with my body.

 

We’d made it to the elevator when an older man stepped forward. He was wearing the same leather as the others; yet, his said president on a little sticker on his right breast pocket. I wondered if it was a real motorcycle club, and if he really was the president.

 

The man’s hair was silver and beautiful. He had the type of hair that you see on the box of men’s ‘Touch of Gray’ hair dye, but I was one hundred and fifteen percent positive that the man had never seen a box of hair dye in his life. He was very fit for an older man, and he reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place it. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous. The look in his eyes told a story. It was one of harshness, and necessity.

 

Sam’s body went tight as a bowstring, and then he cursed violently under his breath when he finally turned around from watching behind us.

 

“What do you want?” He barked.

 

I jumped slightly at the harshness of his voice.

 

I’d never heard him speak like that before, and the harshness of his tone made me look at him differently. Sure, he was a very nice man; he was big and strong, and I knew he was dangerous. Although, it was one thing to know that dangerous, and another to know.

 

“That’s your nephew.” He dropped the bomb and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of bikers.

 

The elevators dinged and we all shuffled forward, holding our breath. I was afraid if I said anything, I would make this situation worse. So I kept my mouth zipped, and checked the baby over. Placing my neonatal stethoscope to his tiny chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. Then his lungs. They sounded absolutely perfect. I checked his APGAR scores again as well, just to be sure.

 

“I’m going to fucking kill him. How dare he?” Sam fumed.

 

The elevator trip stayed silent until we reached the floor that the nursery was on. We all scrambled off, ready to get away from the stifling confines of the elevator. I took a deep breath, and took the baby to the nursery to get him cleaned, weighed, and checked over by the on call pediatrician.

 

My thoughts stayed with Sam, though, and the shock he’d just received. From what I understood, his father was an abusive man. His mother and him tried to run away, and start somewhere new many times. Unfortunately, each time they settled, his father would send someone to bring them back. Finally, the very last time, they were able to get away and not be found again.

 

Things stayed that way until a few years ago when Sam needed help protecting Cheyenne. The kind of help that required something illegal. Sam was as straight-laced as one could be. He believed in his country; he believed in the justice system. His morals wouldn’t allow him to do anything illegal, or, at least, something that would put his beliefs into question. So he’d called in his dad, and his dad had come through; only he required a favor, which hadn’t yet been repaid.

 

Then this man shows up tonight and tells him that the baby was his own flesh and blood. My only guess was that that man was his father, and then it went on to realize that the man we’d seen getting CPR had to be his brother, or the woman who died had to be his sister. Either way, it wasn’t looking good. Someone’s life was lost, and another hung in the balance.

 

I needed Max. I needed a goddamn hug. This night could suck it.